


Warmth in Your Igloo

by scribblemoose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2010-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin waking up in Arthur's tent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth in Your Igloo

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from an Eskimo proverb that is apt for anyone who camps in less than seasonal weather: May you have warmth in your igloo, oil in your lamp, and peace in your heart.

Merlin was cold, wet and exhausted beyond the telling of it. They were four days out of Camelot and still no sign of anything much at all, never mind the mythical beast they were looking for. Or, of course, Morgause or Morgana.

Merlin smoothed his hand down his horse's neck and gave him a little pat by its withers. The horse snuffled at Merlin's hair. Merlin snickered and shoved him off.

It was full night now, the only light coming from the wood-fire smouldering in the middle of the camp, warded by Sir Leon and a couple of guards. It had taken Merlin an hour to light that fire, and even then he'd only got it going with the aid of a little magic. Everything was sodden and the rain still fell, a desultory drizzle that drenched everything it touched.

"Goodnight, Merlin," Leon called, as Merlin passed the fire. It was tempting to stop a while and warm his bones, but Arthur had been in a foul mood all day and Merlin didn't have the energy to cope with a Princely tantrum.

So he picked up the blankets he'd left warming by the fire, said goodnight to Leon and headed for Arthur's tent.

Arthur was sitting on his bedroll, fully dressed and scratching away with a quill on parchment by the light of the single candle. Shadows fell across his face, accentuating the dark smudges of fatigue under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. Arthur had barely stopped for breath since Morgana left Camelot.

"Here," Merlin said, draping a warm blanket around Arthur's shoulders. "You should get some rest."

"I have to finish this report for Father so I can send it back to Camelot tomorrow. Don't wait up, Merlin. We have a long day's ride ahead of us tomorrow."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again the minute he saw Arthur's expression.

"You need sleep too," he said, softly, taking the other blanket to his own bedroll, set just a few inches from Arthur's. It wasn't warm, but it was dry, and Merlin was willing to be grateful for small mercies. He kicked off his boots and snuggled down under the blanket, a bag serving as a pillow. Merlin drifted to sleep surrounded by the smell of leather and the sound of Arthur's pen and his own chattering teeth.

He woke later to find the tent in darkness. He could hear Arthur snoring softly. He pulled a fresh candle out of the bag under his cheek and lit it with a gentle word.

Arthur had fallen asleep just as Merlin had left him; head slumped awkwardly over the parchment balanced on his knees. The blanket had fallen from his shoulders and when Merlin reached out and touched Arthur's hand it was icy. Their breath steamed in the cold air.

Merlin knew what an enemy the cold could be. He gently took the parchment and quill from Arthur's hands, and set them aside. Arthur made no protest, and when Merlin pushed him gently back onto his bedroll he actually co-operated for once and landed perfectly on his back, arms at his sides. Merlin tugged the covers over him, and pulled his own bedroll a little closer before his eyes dragged themselves shut and he drifted back to sleep.

The next time he woke up it was because there was an enormous weight crushing his chest.

It turned out to be Arthur's arm. Clearly Arthur had rolled over in his sleep and seemed intent on cuddling up to Merlin's skinny body. Probably for warmth, Merlin thought. Probably.

"Arthur?"

Arthur made an incoherent mumbling noise, and buried his face in Merlin's neck.

His nose was cold.

"'S magic," Arthur murmured, his lips a warm drag against Merlin's throat. "Y'can tell me, Merlin, 's not like I care or anything."

Merlin froze for a second, staring at the roof of the tent and hoping beyond hope that Arthur was still asleep and dreaming.

"Arthur, you should really wake up now before you do something we both regret."

But if Arthur heard him he certainly took no notice. Merlin should have pushed him away. He really should. _Especially_ when he felt something digging into his thigh and wondered if Arthur still had his sword on except no, so _oh_.

Arthur's knee shifted up and across Merlin's, resting quite close to some very interesting parts indeed.

And Merlin let him.

After a while Arthur's hand began to describe small circles on Merlin's chest. Still apparently asleep, Arthur rocked his body so that his not-sword rubbed into Merlin's hip. When he did that it made Merlin's cock rub against Arthur's leg, so he wasn't exactly complaining. Except this was weird, if warm, and-

\- oh.

"Merlin?"

Arthur's eyes were open and incredulous and Merlin wished so very hard that Arthur had stayed asleep just a little bit longer. "You were cold," Merlin said, his voice coming out as a demented sort of squeak. "Sorry."

"Well. There's nothing to be sorry for," Arthur muttered, and Merlin would have laid bets that Arthur was blushing.

It was then that Merlin realised that Arthur hadn't moved away.

"If you like," Merlin said, "We don't have to stop."

Arthur clearly wasn't fully awake because he didn't recoil with an expression of total disgust on his pretty face. He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes, with the knights, on campaigns, if…. you know, it's traditional, um…"

"It's fine," said Merlin, and tugged Arthur closer so he could kiss him full on the mouth.

Apparently (judging by the surprised sort of noise Arthur made), this wasn't something the knights did on campaign, although it had been what Merlin and Will had done in the barn, so Merlin didn't really think anything of it and it didn't occur to him to stop. After a few moments Arthur must have thrown caution to the wind because he began, very enthusiastically, to kiss Merlin back.

Merlin pressed his body close to Arthur's, his legs winding around Arthur's, his hands busy under Arthur's shirt, and they moved together as if they'd been doing it all their lives.

"Your socks are soft," Arthur said, between kisses that were becoming all the more frantic. "Like that. Keep wearing those. Keep doing that. Ungh, Merlin…"

Merlin came first, all warm and sticky and in his breeches but who the fuck cared; Arthur needed a little help from Merlin's hand in the end, but the pulse and hip-kick and astonishing grimace on his face was something Merlin would always remember. The world clicked into place and when Arthur fell back onto his bedroll Merlin curled into his side, comfortable and safe in this new, right space.

He'd never felt so warm in all his life.

  
 _~fin~_


End file.
